Terminally Yours
by wabbit sox
Summary: Harry’s not as sane as everyone thinks—in fact he’s pretty close to the edge. And when something horrible happens, it finally pushes him over the edge. All the sudden Harry needs somebody to save him, what happens when Draco ends up being that somebody?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: hey everyone, guess what time of year it is? Summer! That means I'm starting a new fic….probably one I'll never finish. No I'm kidding, I've gotten better about finishing them—I hope. So here's the latest offering, have fun with it.

Augh, not that way!

Jez, you kinky perverts. .

Summary: Harry's not as sane as everyone thinks—in fact he's pretty close to the edge. And when something horrible happens, it finally pushes him over the edge. All the sudden the boy who lived needs somebody to save him. AU, set after OTP.

Warnings: I don't think Harry's crazy enough. He grows up with abusive relatives and to be honest he's not too crazy. He has friends, he dates, he's got moral standards, seems pretty well adjusted to me. So I kind of took Harry's personality flaws and um…poked them. So we have: insanity, character death, drug use, rape, child abuse, slash, het, and my favorite part, medication.

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.K., I'm just borrowing them for fun .

_Rock a bye baby on the tree top_

The only sounds to break the silence are harsh, angry gasps.

The room was dark, he'd turned the lights off before he left, when he came back there was no point in turning them on. The teen curled on the bed was clutching his head in his hands, trying to keep from fainting. The world was spinning and no matter how hard he breathed he couldn't fill his lungs. So he kept panting and gasping and his head spun faster and faster, like a broken merry-go-round.

There's something wet on his cheek.

A chiding voice in the back of his head tells him that his clothes are filthy and the bed sheets are clean. It's telling him to take a bath and go to bed.

"Like a bath is gonna make it all better," Harry tried to say, the words escaped his throat as a breathy pant. The silence was driving him crazy, but his head was pounding. Any noise would make it pound worse. He didn't want to be alone in the dark. But the light would only remind him how disgusting he looked. His own bedroom was a prison all the sudden and yet there was no where else to go. This prison was all he had.

Bed, he was in bed.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. There was a flash of lightening outside, illuminating the room.

There was a shape looming over his bed. Harry's eyes widened. The lightening faded and it was gone. The teen shrieked and hurled himself out of bed. He didn't care where he was, he just had to get away. He crawled until he hit the wall, and then he scratched at it like a trapped cat.

Outside thunder split the sky, it sounded like floorboards. It sounded like the floorboard outside the cupboard under the stairs. It creaked whenever his uncle was outside the door. Harry screamed again, clawing the wall.

Rain poured down his window in a steady stream. "rain, rain go away." Harry sung quietly, "come again another day." He was shaking and his cheeks were all wet. Wet…tears? The tears came after, always after.

Harry's gaps became more frantic, he couldn't breath. He shoved himself in the wall, gasping and whispering quiet protests. There was a dull roar growing in his hears. All he could hear was the blood pounding frantically in his skull. It was looking for a way out.

Lightening struck again, brighter this time. More shadows were clinging to the air around Harry, there was a whole gang of them all the sudden. They had him surrounded, pressed like a rat against a dirty brick wall next to a dumpster. Harry swung his arms wildly and cried out.

He hit his nightstand, not the dumpster. There was no dumpster—he was in his room. The wall at his back wasn't brick at all. The teen was shaking now, a fine tremble started at the base of his spin and crept through his nerves.

"No, no, no, no!" Harry whispered, clutching his skull. Thunder screamed outside, there were floorboards creaking, they were getting louder. He was getting closer. The cupboard door opened with a squeak.

But he wasn't in the cupboard anymore…was he?

The teen crawled over to his bed and tugged at the sheets. No, he was in a room with a bed and a window. He looked back at the window. The rain was coming down harder, something wet was dripping onto the collar of his shirt. Harry pulled viciously at the sheets and his hands slipped. The teen fell onto the floor, his head thumped against the ground and the world swam.

Hands were touching him, fingers running down his spine. Filthy, grimy hands pinned Harry's wrists above his head, those hands always encompassed both of Harry's tiny ones. They were filthy, all that dirt was rubbing onto Harry. He was filthy.

Harry howled and curled onto his side, swatting off invisible hands and cursing at people who weren't there. He was alone on the floor, not in the cot under the stairs.

The hands were still there, touching him, fisting his hair, slapping his face.

He couldn't remember where he was again. Harry couldn't get up, his head was so heavy, there was so much blood. The teen rolled onto his back again, he was under the window. Lightening light up the room, he could see faces above his, a familiar one and ones that had been obscured by the darkness. Heavy, fat hands dug into his flesh again and again and again.

Harry opened his mouth to scream but his throat was too raw, all that slithered from his throat was a low, keening wail.

_When the wind blows the cradle will rock  
_

The loud rumble of thunder made him thrash. He writhed wildly across the floor, fighting and waving an imaginary wand, trying to light it up, trying to keep the monsters away. As the sound faded so did his fighting, his body was drained and the teen lay boneless on the floor, weeping and trying to scream.

He looked up and through the rain he saw a star.

"Sirius?" He whispered. "No," a wicked smile twisted Harry's features, "he's dead. Dead, dead, dead, everyone's dead. And if they're not," the teen panted, "then they're gonna soon. Everybody's gonna die."

Outside the rain beat harder against his window.

"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down," He sung in a hoarse voice.

There was too much blond. The lightening flashed even brighter and a crack of thunder sent Harry sprawling to one side. All he could hear was the blood pounding on his skull. Something inside his head was breaking. The rain was pattering violently at his window.

Harry stumbled into his feet and threw himself at his door. He fumbled with the handle, but twisted it open and fell into the hall way. The shadows of raindrops sliding down the windows played on the wall. Lightening played across his skin. The teen fell onto the bathroom door, and slid to his knees, hands wrapped firmly around the doorknob. Something was still breaking inside his head, since when was he so breakable? Harry opened the door and crawled into the bathroom.

He shut the door, almost quietly, and locked it. Using the sink counter he pulled himself to his feet. Slumped against the marble he clicked on the light. The fluorescent glow didn't help. He could still feel hands and that roar in his ears wasn't any quieter. He was a mess. His lip was split and there was a nasty bruise developing on one cheek. Both eyes were ringed with more bruises. His shirt was ripped and bloody. His jeans…well he couldn't see much of them in the mirror and he didn't look down.

The teen fumbled through the medicine cabinet until he found his uncles spare razors, all tied together with a piece of string. Harry dangled them in front of his eyes, watching the light play off the metal as another peel of thunder shook him. Finally he dropped to his knees, the razors limp in one hand.

"Somebody kill me," He moaned, "somebody kill me."

_When the bough breaks the cradle will fall_

He dropped the razors and stood up. He walked into the hallway and with his head hung low he trotted down the stairs to the front door. The teen didn't bother with a coat, he just stepped into the rain. Well, step was too mild a word. He tumbled from the front door and managed to keep from falling.

The rain was cold and it stung where it touched his skin.

His head was so heavy all the sudden. There was something new in it, memories of things he hadn't remembered until whatever was in his head broke. He still couldn't breath, but at least now he could hear. That roaring sound in his ears was gone and his skull didn't hurt so bad anymore.

He ran.

He ran to the park at the end of private drive.

Funny, there was someone else out here too. It was a man wearing a heavy, dark jacket. Harry smiled, it was god. The teen ran to the man. Harry watched as the man turned to face him, he was probably wondering what that splashing sound was.

Harry tumbled into the man and held him like he was the last solid thing in the world.

"Will you kill me?" the teen whispered, he looked into the man's face with a huge grin on his face. Naked adoration shone from Harry's eyes, he looked so happy that he almost glowed. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and life, so much life yet unlived.

"Got any money?"

Harry shook his head.

"Maybe we can find something else you can pay with."

The teen's grin widened and he buried his face in the man's shoulder, "sure." And then Harry started to shake as if he were sobbing. The man just slung an arm around Harry's shoulders and led him away. _Poor kid, _he thought, _but hey, business is business. _

"Can you make it stop?" Harry whispered.

"Make what stop?"

"The pain…"

"Oh sure, I got lots of stuff for that."

Harry wasn't sure he was crying, in the rain he couldn't tell. Maybe that was for the best.

_And down will come baby, cradle and all…  
And down will come baby, cradle and all._

A/N: in a totally unrelated side note does anyone else find it creepy that my mom sung me that song when I couldn't sleep as a kid? Perchance I should go bring that up with her. Anywho, so there's the start to a disturbing new story, who's in?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: yay, reviews! So I updated in a timely fashion, woohoo. And here is chapter two, in which a very different Harry returns to Hogwarts.

Summer passed, and far too quickly for Harry Potter. Once upon a time he spent his summers anxiously waiting for school to start. That Harry hated summer because he had to spend it with the Dursleys. But this new Harry didn't mind life on Private Drive, the Dursleys didn't bother him anymore, in fact Harry spent as little time with them as possible. He came home every other day or so, but otherwise he stayed with friends.

He and his new friends would stay up all night, sometimes they danced, sometimes they talked, and sometimes they went on adventures. They wondered around the city, looking for the next dealer or a brand new drug to try out. They were up for anything. And the best part about this new life was the drugs.

They took everything away, they made it all better. When he shot up, there was no pain anymore, it vanished in the haze of euphoria that followed. He forgot everything because nothing mattered. All that mattered was the feeling, the feeling that made everything beautiful and nothing hurt. He liked Herion, it wasn't his favorite, but it was his first and it was the one he stuck with. His favorite was Ecstasy, partly because it made him feel warmer then he ever could on his own and partly because it made him forget—everything.

And on September first Harry left private driver. His dealer gave him a ride to the Station—and enough Heroin to last him three days if he was careful. In three days he'd be able to find a new dealer.

Harry handed him the money and Johnny handed him a zip lock bag filled with whitish powder. Johnny liked him, so he tried to get Harry the purest stuff. This bag was nice, almost pure white. "Thanks, man." Harry said with a grin.

"My pleasure, have fun at your little school."

The teen snorted, "Yeah, fun," he couldn't help remembering how much he used to love Hogwarts. He didn't really hate it, he just didn't want to go, didn't want to be around his old friends. "I'll see ya next summer."

"See you then."

Harry slipped out of the car and got his bag from the trunk. Then he fished Hedwig out from the back seat. "Hey girl," he sighed. Hedwig cooed in response. Harry waved to Johnny as his beat up hatchback zoomed out of his vision. The teen slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and walked towards platform nine.

He didn't have much. He had his wizard gear and a few clothes, and his drug kit. That was all. He hadn't bought many new clothes this summer, just pants in fact. Almost all of his money went towards his heroin. Harry lost weight over the summer, he wasn't sure how much. But it got to the point where his old pants were big enough that it became impractical to wear them with a belt. His shirts were too big as well, but a few snips here and there took care of that.

People didn't exactly stare, they glanced, made a face, and went back to their lives. It wasn't too weird to see a skinny kid walking around with an owl. Harry didn't wear glasses much anymore, they got in the way when he was high. He'd either forget where they were or break them. Contacts were more…appropriate for his lifestyle. Besides, the glasses made him look younger—made it harder to get beer.

"So this is it," he said to no one in particular. He stood in front of the pillar just between platforms nine and ten. He could still run, but that wouldn't work. Damn wizards would track him down. So he sighed and ambled into the pillar.

It was cold for a second, cold and silent. Then he was assaulted by the sounds of kids screaming and talking and laughing. He barely resisted the urge to slam his hands over his ears. Everyone was saying goodbye to parents or chatting animatedly with friends. "I should find them," he told Hedwig, "Shouldn't I?" She glared at him from inside her cage. "I'll take that as a yes."

She cooed and nodded, reproachfully. She didn't seem to like all the noise either.

Harry scanned the crowd for a clan of redheads. He found it. He spotted almost all the Weasly clan saying goodbye to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Harry sighed, he didn't want to see them all. They'd hug him and Mrs. Weasly would worry over him, as usual…Maybe more then usual. So he waited until the train whistle run and everyone crowded on. He watched his friends and followed them onto the train. He waited until they chose a car and Harry slipped through the crowded isles until he reached it. Thank go no one recognized him yet.

Placing a hand on the door, Harry hesitated. He could turn, sit with someone else, acknowledge that things had changed. But he didn't. He took a deep breath and gently pushed the compartment door open.

Three pairs of eyes turned in surprise to the door. Two of them were brown and one of them a murky blue, god how familiar, how painfully fucking familiar. He didn't remember any of his new friend's eyes, in fact he could barely recall what they looked like.

At first they looked a little confused, and then Hermione gasped, "Harry, what happened to you?"

Harry raised and eyebrow, "I didn't cut my hair? Jez, Hermione, it's not like I sprouted a second head or anything." He ran a hand through his dark locks, his bangs grew a hell of a lot, they hit his cheekbones now. The rest of his hair was pulled into a messy, short tail.

"And what happened to your glasses?" Ginny asked.

"They kept getting in the way." The teen shrugged, he flopped down beside Ron and grinned at him, "Ron what do you think?"

"About what?" The redhead asked his friend.

"The new look?"

"You've got wicked dark circles." Ron commented with a flimsy smile. There was an undercurrent of awkwardness between them and Harry, not Ginny, she had no idea. But Ron and Hermione were nervous, they weren't sure how Harry would react.

"Not sleeping much," Harry shrugged, that and the Heroin. "So how was your summer?" He grinned at them, willing them to think that nothing happened, that everything's fine, everything's fine.

They talked, told him stories about summer at the burrow, Harry only half-listened. They were so boring, so not funny, so normal. There was no glamour to them, there was nothing exciting or mysterious—nothing. They were just kids. Harry sighed to himself and glanced out the window, everything was covered with a thick mist of gray. When had he grown up, when had things changed?

"You know, I'm kinda hungry, I think I'm gonna go find the snack cart, anyone want anything?" Harry asked, stretching his arms above his head. He couldn't help but notice that Ginny eyes were on him. He smirked and left the car with two orders.

The cart was a little ways away, but within sight. He walked a little stiffly down the isle, it only took a few seconds for him to adopt his new gait. The old Harry walked like a monk, stiff and closed and scared. The new Harry was still a little of high and he wasn't stiff or scared anymore. The drugs took care of all that, there was no pain anymore.

He ordered everything and crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for the attendant to put all their food in a bag. Then he noticed someone else walking down the isle. A guy, his age, icy blond hair, pale grey eyes and dark lashes. He was taller than Harry by a head, maybe a head and a half—bigger than Harry too, but then again most guys were. But this one was pretty, his jaw was masculine and so were those high cheekbones, but his eyes were pretty, suspicious, closed, and mysterious. Draco Malfoy, that was his name Harry remembered. "I think I hate him," Harry murmured quietly. Malfoy looked like him, changed, older, damaged—it took one to know one.

The blonde stopped at the other end of the food cart, and for a moment didn't notice Harry. Then he did. For a second blondie looked confused, the face before him was familiar, but different. The teen looked about Draco's age, maybe 5'7 or 5'8, and thin, very thin. His eyes were a bright and swirling emerald green and his lashes played like black lace against his icy cheeks. Dark patches under his eyes only made them look bigger and brighter. Dark chunks of hair fell haphazardly across his face, and a small smile played on his lips. It was only a certain curve of the cheek and strength of jaw that kept him from looking to girlish.

Harry's smirk broke into a grin, he could feel the blonde's eyes on his face, "Hey, Malfoy."

"Potter?" Blondie sounded so surprised that Harry's grin widened even more. And then he regained his composure, fascinating. A sneer played upon his full, pretty lips, "You look like garbage, been borrowing the Weasel's clothes again?"

Green eyes narrowed, and Harry smirked. Blondie was damaged goods, Harry could tell by how guarded his eyes were and how nasty that sneer was. Harry wanted to take him apart and gobble him up. "Oh, I don't know, I think this shirt looks pretty nice on me," Harry stretched again, arching his back like a cat and curling his arms above his head, knowing the act revealed a pale belt of flesh between the tops of his jeans and his t-shirt.

He'd heard the rumors since fourth year, everyone knew that Malfoy would fuck anything and anyone he wanted. Harry just wanted to be wanted.

Malfoy started to snarl something else but Harry cut him off with a loud yawn.

"Oh no, go ahead, I always yawn when I'm interested." Harry said with a small sincere smile.

The blonde growled, "Fuck you, Potter."

"Are you offering?"

Blondie almost choked, but he caught himself and managed to snarl, "You're such a freak, especially with that scar, grow your hair out to cover it up? I would."

"Nah, I grew it out because I heard you liked long hair better," Harry purred.

"I hate you! You hate me too!" Malfoy almost yelled.

"How do you know I don't?" Harry said calmly. "Maybe I've just found a better way of making fun of you?"

"Fucking cocksucker."

Harry licked his lips and kept his eyes locked on Blondies. Honestly, he had fantastic eyes.

The blonde made a disgusted sound in the back of throat, but he was blushing anyway.

"Aw, if you keep getting all red and yelling like that you might have a heart attack," Harry chuckled.

Malfoy did yell, "I'm not red!"

The dark haired teen leaned closer, "No, more of a pale pink?"

The blonde stormed off in a huff. Harry grinned, that was the one he wanted. Harry gathered his food and walked back to his own car.

"What took so long?" Hermione laughed.

"Oh, me and Malfoy were just getting re-aquainted, I think I missed the little bastard." Harry said teasingly. He sat beside Ron again and dolled out the food. Ginny was alright looking, not as pretty as Hermione, but pretty enough. And she was a little thin for Harry's taste but she would do. The only thing worse then sleeping was doing it alone. He brushed his finger tips against hers and smiled at her. Harry reclined in his seat and watched her chew on a jelly bean.

"Hey, Ginny can I have one?" He asked, opening his mouth.

She blushed, but laughed, "What are you, a seal?" But she tossed it towards him. Harry caught it in his mouth, swallowed and grinned at her.

"I got chocolate." He told her. Her eyes were brown, a nice chocolate brown, it was a little odd to find a redhead with brown eyes.

"Me too."

He smiled at her until she finally looked down at her lap. Then Harry turned to Ron and started a conversation about Quidditch this year. Ron gobbled it up. Out of the corner of his eye Harry watched Ginny. Not as pretty, but she'd do.

XXXX

When the train stopped the students poured off it into their carriages, the sky was still grey, a nasty, unrelenting grey. The carriage ride was boring, Harry sat beside Ginny and smiled at her some more. She loved it.

They reached Hogwarts in about twenty minutes and once again all the students poured into the Great Hall, all dressed in their school uniforms. Harry hadn't bothered, he just tossed his robe on over his black jeans and t-shirt. No one would actually notice. Harry followed his friends to the Gryffindor table and sat down, he did notice however that Lavender had filled out a bit more over the summer, pretty. Last time he heard she was pretty loose. Harry shot her a grin that was almost a leer. She smiled prettily back.

Meanwhile Dumbledore was talking, droning on about something or other. Harry wasn't paying attention. He was cold, freezing actually, he felt goose bumps raising on his arms. Shit, he needed his heroin. He cursed, usually he could last longer then this! He took some this morning. He had to wait till Dumbledore's speech was over, but then there was the sorting hat—shit that could take half an hour, maybe more.

He was trying to take slow deep breaths, but it wasn't working, he couldn't last like this. Everything started to hurt, his arms, his legs, even his head. The throbbing sensation penetrated his skin and pierced to his bones.

Harry almost whimpered, as his stomach lurched violently. He got up and walked out of the Great Hall as quick as he could without running. People were watching him leave, he ignored it. God, he was going to be sick. The second he was outside the hall he ran to the nearest bathroom, threw himself over a toilet and vomited.

"Fuck," he gasped.

The porcelain floor stung his knees; he could feel it through his jeans. It was so cold. "I gotta get to the tower," he started to get to his feet, he needed heroin, now. "Fuck, the password! I don't know it."

Harry threw himself out of the stall and lurched against a nearby sink. He gasped and shook and tried to catch his breath, he was panicking. Then he had a though, "Infirmary, Madam Pomfrey's at the feast." He checked to make sure the hall was clear and then he took off running to the infirmary. They had to have some painkillers there—he just needed something to take the edge off.

He stumbled five times and only tripped twice, but a few minutes later he made it. The door to the ward was open, thank god it was empty. He found Madam Pomfrey's office and it too was open. Inside there was a series of cabinets, each labeled. Harry found one marked painkillers and cursed. It was locked.

The teen trembled again, he was so cold, "gonna die," he whispered. Then he pressed his fingers tentatively against it and whispered, "Alohomora!" The lock opened and Harry threw it to the floor and flung open the cabinet doors. Inside were jars, all labeled thank god. Harry rummaged through until he found a jar of what looked like flowers, the label said opium poppies.

Harry knew that just eating poppies wouldn't get you high, you had to process them or something. But he opened the jar and ate a flower. He felt it within the minute. Everything blurred out of focus and the world was blissfully cloudy again. He took a deep breath and groaned. The cold stopped and the ache in his bones lessened.

"That's nice." He whispered, placing the jar inside the cabinet again and resetting the lock. Harry stretched his sore muscles and slung his hands in his pockets, whistling to himself as he ambled back to the great hall, honestly in no particular hurry. He was just noticing how pretty the stones looked when they were blurred together like that.

Harry opened the door to the great hall and flung it shut behind him. Most people looked over at the door, some people were still paying attention to the sorting hat, it was only at M. Snape fixed him with a nasty glare. Harry wanted to go up and slug that bastard, but instead he smiled, a big, happy smile. Snape looked like he was sucking on a lemon—probably wasn't the only thing he was sucking on. How else had he gotten the DADA position?

That though cheered Harry up as he sat down between Ron and Neville again.

"You okay?" Ron asked.

"Just feeling a little sick is all," Harry said with a small smile, "Snape looks greasier than usual," he redirected the conversation somewhere less dangerous.

He and Ron talked in hushed tones for the rest of the stupid ceremony, it wasn't until the feast itself that Harry branched off and chatted up some other house mates. The only way anyone got anything was from other so the more acquaintances he had the more options he had. Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table and spotted Malfoy, sneering and chatting up his own posse. That boy did have the nicest hair, Harry had never seen hair that color.

Then he looked over at Lavender. Her hair was obviously dyed, it was a bleached peroxide color that she wore well enough. He focused his attention on her. If he was lucky maybe she'd provide a nice distraction for tonight.

When the feast was over they did the usual, they followed the prefects like sheep up to the fat lady's portrait, the new password was wigglesworth. Someone was obviously taking more shit then he was.

Harry flirted with Lavender in the common room until it got late. She told him about her summer and asked if he liked her hair. He said it looked fantastic on her. She rambled on about her parents and how they were assholes because they found her drinking and grounded her. Then she wined about her friends and how they were all jealous of her and always gave her a hard time. Then they talked about bands and music and Harry pretended to like the same ones she did. It was so easy it almost made Harry sick.

Flirting and courtship, it was all just a lie to get into each others pants. People should just fall on the floor and fuck. That was all they wanted to do anyway, they didn't care about each other. They just blindly followed the guidelines that society had drilled into their minds. It was all just an act.

She gave him a kiss before heading off to bed, waggling her fantastic ass as she walked up the stairs. Fucking tease.

It was midnight. Harry snuck into his dorm room and got his drug case from his bag. It was a black toiletry bag that he kept his stuff in. On his bed he closed the curtains and quietly by the light of his wand set up.

Last step, he finally tied a shoestring around his arm as a tourniquet and stretched the skin of his elbow. Harry tapped the air bubbles from the end of his syringe and positioned it at his elbow, just above the blue of his vein. And then the needle plunged home. He pressed the plunger till all the liquid was gone, all absorbed into his bloodstream. It wouldn't be long now.

As he cleaned everything up, he felt it. With a quiet moan Harry fell back against his pillows. The first few seconds were the best. He felt warm and safe and cozy, the blankets at his back felt like arms protecting him. The world was a delicious blur of soft sounds and gentle colors. There was no pain, just a lush contentment and satisfaction. All was right with the world.

The initial buzz faded after a minute, shorter then it used to be. Harry sighed. He couldn't sleep, he didn't want to sleep. So he shimmied out of his robes and pulled on his one and only sweater, it was an oversized cable knit turtleneck whose sleeves enveloped his hands and hit just below the top of his thigh. It was so comfy.

Harry wondered out of the Gryffindor tower into the castle. He didn't mind being back. He hated being reminded of old Harry, but that was okay. Only the people here did that. The teen laid a hand against the stone, the castle never did that. These stones accepted him whoever he was, they kept him safe.

"You aren't gonna hurt me are you?" He asked the stones. They felt warm beneath his hand, a definite 'never'. Content Harry ambled through the halls. And then he heard someone else coming from behind him. Footsteps, Harry was still high enough not to care. He slipped his hands into his back pockets and glanced over his shoulder.

A blonde rounded the corner, dressed in a white button down and a pair of faded jeans. Malfoy—what was he doing out this late? "Potter!" Malfoy spat, "Students aren't allowed out after dark."

"Then what're you doing?"

Those pretty grey eyes narrowed, "Patrolling for rule breakers like you!"

Harry smiled and shook his head, "No, then you'd have your robes on. You're just wondering around like me."

"Stop smiling at me!" Draco growled.

"Why?"

"I can't fucking stand you, Potter! You just think you're better then everybody else. You're everyone's little golden boy, look at you, breaking all the rules," Draco hissed, "Well you're not! You make me sick."

"That used to hurt my feelings, it doesn't anymore. You're just baiting me," Harry said quietly, eyes narrowing. He walked towards Draco. "You want me to fight you, why?"

"Because I want to beat you."

"That's a silly reason to fight," Harry shrugged with a big grin.

"You're a coward, just like your dead parents." Draco spat, he had a triumphant fire in his eyes. He thought that was going to make Harry snap.

But Harry didn't. He used to be angry, he used to be so angry. But ever since he started taking the drugs, things changed. Angry didn't get him anything, angry made him feel sick and vomit, angry made people scared of him, angry made him hurt people that he hadn't meant to. Angry and drugs don't mix to well. These days anger was just another pointless emotion, all of them were useless. "Maybe they were, I didn't really know them did I?"

"You always fight when someone insults your parents." Draco said, for the first time he didn't sound angry, just thoughtful and annoyed. His voice sounded good annoyed, it was rough and warm.

"That Harry died, somebody killed him. Who killed you?"

Malfoy snarled, "Are you high, you fucked lunatic?"

Harry was right in front of Malfoy, right in his face, he looked serious for a second them he smiled, "Maybe."

The blonde shoved Harry away. The dark haired teen laughed and stumbled, falling to the floor in a heap of giggles and slender limbs. "You're such a freak."

From the floor Harry moaned and rolled his hips, "and you love it."

Draco walked past him angrily, "Just stay away from me." He was annoyed, god his voice sounded hot when he was annoyed.

"Ring around the rosies, pockets full of posies, ashes, ashes we all fall down," Harry sung softly. "Ashes, ashes we all fall down!"

"Shut up!" Draco snarled over his shoulder. Then he stopped and turned. "Are you even going to get up?!"

"Why do you care?" Harry whispered. He and Draco always fought, they hated each other. Why? There really had never been a concrete reason, they were both angry and the other just happened to be there. But they didn't just fight, they looked forward to their fights, at least Harry did. He thought about Draco often, not all the time like a love stick school girl, but every now and then. Harry was so angry before, that he almost couldn't think. The anger was stifling him. But now everything was so lucid. He wasn't in love with Draco Malfoy, nothing as sentimental as that. But there was some level of fascination now. Harry wanted Draco, he wanted to take the blonde apart and see what made him tick and he wanted to know what killed Draco. Maybe it was the same thing that killed the old Harry, or maybe not. Harry just wanted to know.

"I don't." Draco snarled, "I just don't want you to rat me out."

"Liar, liar pants on fire hanging from a telephone wire," Harry sung again.

"God, fuck off!" Draco did storm off then. The blonde vanished into the dark.

Harry rolled onto his side, it was funny, when Malfoy sounded annoyed he sounded like he cared. Harry rationally knew Malfoy didn't actually give a rat's ass about some skinny heroin addict—but with a voice like that…Harry could pretend. And that was enough.

A/N: alright, the end for now. Hope everything wasn't to out of character, especially the Harry Draco interactions. So thoughts, criticisms, suggestions, want to tell me how much you looooooove my use of smily faces?  then you should review!

p.s. if you do you get a cookie. 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: my smily faces don't show up on I'm irritated and craving diet coke. Who wants to hear a funny story? So I tried to drive for the first time yesterday. My dad took me driving in the city (bad idea). I got 2 and a half blocks and then I got the accelerator and the break confused and accidentally hit a pole. Yeah, go me.

The ironic part is that I crashed on the way to test drive a new car. Eeeeeeek.

So that's the most exciting thing that happened to me recently.

Anywho, here's a new chapter in which Harry re-encounters his teachers, decides to find a new dealer, and has a medical condition—time to call doctor House!

XXXX

The first day of classes started when Harry joined Ron and Hermione for breakfast. The redhead and the brunette bickered as usual and Harry pretended to think it was endearing. If they wanted to fuck they should just do it already. But Harry kept his opinion to himself. Harry didn't eat at breakfast, he had some heroin before breakfast instead.

He spent some time talking to Lavender, unfortunately they didn't have any classes together, but they agreed to meet up after dinner. Harry was just hoping they'd have sex. The idea of talking to her anymore bordered on revolting. "Hey, Ron, what do we have first?"

"Transfiguration," The redhead yawned, "I heard it's really hard this year."

Harry shrugged, "Can't be as bad as divination—wait, are we still required to take Transfig?"

Ron nodded.

"Fuck." The dark haired teen sighed.

Transfiguration was as boring as Harry hoped it wouldn't be. McGonagall lectured them on how they were getting older and needed to control their magic better. She also warned them about Voldemort. She might have well as shut off all the lights, held a flashlight under her chin and made scary faces. She wasn't trying to warn them, she was just telling ghost stories—trying to frighten them so badly that they didn't bother to stand up and fight.

Harry surveyed the room with cool, bored eyes. His classmates were smart enough, they could fight back, anyone could. He'd tried to make them fight back last year, that hadn't work well at all. It only re-enforced Harry's decision that from now on, things were better done on his own.

But McGonagall's lecture had reminded him of something he'd almost forgotten, Voldemort. The dark lord hadn't bothered him much over the summer, in fact Harry could barely remember his scar ever hurting—probably because he was too high to notice. But still, it had been a nice break. Harry almost groaned, he remembered why he hated Hogwarts. Here, he had to be the fucking savior of the wizarding world. Couldn't they find someone better qualified then a drug-addicted sixteen year old?

"Mr. Potter can you tell me how one would turn a wand into a sword?"

Harry looked up to find her tartan-hatted majesty stopped before his desk. "No." The teen said in a bored voice.

"But I just told you how."

"I wasn't paying attention," Harry shrugged, "Sorry, professor."

Mcgonagall scowled, "Stay after class, Potter."

The teen almost sighed, more time with Mcgonagall, great. But at least he'd be late for his next class. Luckily the class passed quickly after that, per usual Hermione was the only one who understood the theory behind the morphing spell and managed to turn her wand into a small sword, well more like a knife.

"Have fun," Ron snickered.

Harry grinned and jokingly flipped the redhead off. Then he went to the front of the room. "Morning, professor."

"You really should start paying more attention in class, Potter, you never know when you might need a weapon." She sighed in a worried, lilting voice.

"I know professor, you're right, I should pay more attention." Harry sighed, he was lying of course, just indulging her so she'd shut up faster. "What did you need to talk to me about?"

"Has your scar been bothering you?"

The teen obediently shook his head, "No professor, I haven't noticed a thing."

"No dreams?"

"Nope—"

"Visions?"

"No—"

"Any pain at all?"

"Nothing, professor, I've been doing fine." Harry insisted, "Is that all you wanted to ask?"

"No, Potter. Professor Dumbledore needs to speak to you as soon as possible. I've excused you from your next class so you can see him." McGonagall said.

"What does he want to talk to me about?"

"Voldemort."

Of course, no one ever just wanted to say hi. "Of course, Professor. I'll go visit him immediately."

"The password is gumdrops." McGonagall told him in a tired voice. Harry turned to walk towards the door when her voice made him turn, "Our world has become… dangerous, Harry. I think Dumbledore expects too much of you. I know the prophecy, but you can't face Lord Voldemort. The only reason you aren't dead, Potter, is because you are a very, very lucky young man."

"Well what do you propose I do, Professor? Apparently I'm the one he marked as his equal." Harry scowled.

"I want you to take extra lessons. Professor Snape is willing to teach you dueling spells."

Harry almost screamed, instead he took a deep breath and said, "Professor Snape and I don't see eye to eye, and I don't think a few dueling spells are going to make me anymore qualified to kill the dark lord."

McGonagall sighed, "I know," She sounded so damn sad that Harry actually felt for her. "But it would make me and a few other members of the order feel better."

"Remus?" Harry asked.

The professor hesitated, "He's made his opinion very clear."

"And what was that?"

She sighed, "A sixteen year old should not be expected to fight the dark lord. He's very angry with Dumbledore for endangering you so recklessly."

Harry smiled, at least someone still had some common sense left, "Remus is too sane for his own good. I'll get out of your hair, Professor, lovely talking to you again." He left before she could say anything else, slamming the door on his way out.

The teen stormed towards Dumbledore's office, angry, tired, and wanting more heroin. He wanted to hit something and he knew that if he didn't shoot up soon, he would. Harry hated being angry, at some level it made him helpless, he was controlled by his anger.

Getting to the Headmasters office was no problem, and at least it got him out of Herbology, quite possibly the most useless class in the whole crazy school. Not for the first time he wondered if any adult here was even a little sane. Who the hell trusted a sixteen year old boy to save the world!

"Gumdrops," Harry sighed.

The stairs behind the gargoyle opened up and Harry climbed into Dumbledore's office. "Morning, Proffesor," Harry said loudly, announcing himself in the most obvious way.

"Harry, yes, please have a seat, would you like a gumdrop." Dumbledore said from behind his desk. Harry almost rolled his eyes, the old man and his candy. He did sit down in one of the chairs before the headmaster's desk and took a whole handful of gumdrops. "How have you been?"

"Fine." Harry said with a smile, "No problems with my scar, Voldemort hasn't bothered me at all."

"That's good, that's good," Dumbledore mused. "Unfortunately, you know of Voldemort's activities, he's become stronger, he and the Death Eaters are staging public attacks now."

"Right," Harry said slowly, waiting for the headmaster to tell him more.

"Over the summer I've learned very much about Voldemort from my pensieve. And I believe I've learned the secret to his power."

"That's great!" Harry said genuinely, "How do we kill him!"

"What?" Dumbledore blinked.

"Kill him, how do we do it? I want him out of my life."

"I was going to ask you if were capable of taking another life," Dumbledore said quietly, "Are you?"

Harry thought a moment. He was willing to kill Voldemort, but that was a kill or be killed situation. Anyone with half a brain would want to kill Voldemort. But taking another life, just shooting some random guy on the street, could he do it? "Yes." Harry said, looked at the white-haired man across from him with cold eyes.

"I was afraid of that."

The teen sighed.

"Voldemort is evil and what has protected you from him is love: the love of your mother and the love in your heart. You're a good person, Harry. You have a kind, genuine heart." Dumbledore kept talking about hearts and love and goodness—Harry stopped listening. It was driving him insane.

He didn't have a good heart, not anymore. He was dirty, filthy inside. His heart might have been good once upon a time. But now it was just dirt. The old Harry had love in his heart, the new Harry wasn't sure what exactly love was—and he didn't want to find out.

"I think you're wrong." Harry interrupted. "Voldemort isn't evil. He's just a human and human actions are to complex to be labeled good or evil. He's murdered people and I hate him, but he isn't evil. It's not that cut and dry. And I'm not a 'good person'. Again there is no simple good and bad, there's just complexity. I'm a person and therefore the same complexity that is applied to Voldemort's actions should be applied to mine."

Dumbledore watched him with sharp grey eyes, "You didn't used to think so much, Harry."

The teen's lips pulled into an angry smirk, "I grew up."

"So I see." Dumbledore got up and walked over to Fawkes, "Where does that leave us?"

"I'm the one who's going to kill Voldemort, I want a say in what happens. You can't just tell me what to do or hide things from me. I think I deserve to be treated as an adult." Harry said. His arm was throbbing. When he shot up this morning he accidentally missed the vein and hit muscle instead. It hurt like hell. He needed drugs, now.

"I think that's fair."

"Thank you, now what have you learned?"

Dumbledore pet the phoenix who cooed under his hands, "You wouldn't by any chance know what a Horcrux is would you?"

Harry blinked, "A what?"

"A Horcrux."

The teen shook his head, "I'm sorry a whore-crotch?"

"No, a Horcrux," Dumbledore said slowly, stressing the last syllable.

"Oh, no never heard of one."

Dumbledore started to pace, "It's very old, very dark magic. A Horcrux acts as a vessel for a wizards soul, it's a way of achieving immortality. As long as the Horcrux remains in tact, then the wizard will be immortal."

Harry groaned aloud, "That's what Voldemort did, isn't it? He's obsessed with immortality, god that explains it. That's why he didn't die at Godric Hollow, the Horcrux's were intact."

"Exactly, Harry, but how did you—"

"He's been in my head," Harry said in a miserable voice, "I've been in his, it's disgusting and that's all that needs to be said."

Dumbledore nodded, "I can only imagine. But Harry, you see the only way to destroy Voldemort once and for all is to find and destroy the Horcruxes."

"He's got more then one?" Harry sighed.

"I think he has six."

The teen bit his lip, "How do we find them?"

"I've destroyed one already, a ring, you also destroyed one. His diary, you remember it?"

Harry thought a moment, "Tom riddles diary? In second year? That was one?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Great, so where are the other ones."

"Don't you care about how he made the Horcruxes?"

The teen shrugged, "No, I just want to destroy them so I can kill him. I want to move on with my life," Harry sighed, "I've spent the last five years of my life on Voldemort, I want him dead."

The headmaster didn't say anything, but he nodded. "You've changed, Harry."

"I take it for the worse?"

"It's not up to me to assign judgment to human complexity." Dumbledore said, eyes sparkling merrily.

Harry grinned, "So where are the other ones?"

"Well I have reason to suspect that Voldemort used relics from the founders of the four Hogwarts houses. He used Salazar Slytherins locket, Helga Hufflepuffs cup, and another one I haven't been able to locate. I believe that it's an item belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw. But I believe that the fourth Horcrux is the snake Nagini."

The teen frowned, "So that's three we have to find, we know Nagini is with him—"

"Someone has already taken Salazar Slytherin's locket, someone who calls himself R.A.B. He claimed that he's destroyed it, but…" Dumbledore trailed off.

"Alright then, that's two, the cup and the Ravenclaw relic. That's not too bad."

Dumbledore frowned, "The problem, Harry, is that I can't help you destroy them." He shifted uncomfortably and then Harry noticed something. The professor was favoring his right arm, in fact it looked like he could barely use it.

"Professor what happened to your arm?"

"A curse, when I destroyed that first Horcrux it hurt my arm very badly. It's healing, but at it's own pace. Magic won't speed the process." Dumbledore sighed. "I can try and find the Horcruxes, but you must destroy them on your own."

Harry thought for a moment and nodded, "Alright, I can do that. I'll do whatever it takes to kill him."

Dumbledore smiled weakly, "Be careful of that kind of ambition, but you may go. I'll contact you when I've found a Horcrux."

"Thank you professor. I look forward to it."

With that Harry got up and left the office as quickly as he could. He needed to get to back to his dorm. He needed heroin—now.

XXX

The heroin only helped a little bit. It didn't really help the pain in his arm and it didn't really make everything blurry anymore. The euphoria faded too quickly and then everything got clearer. He needed more. So he shot up again.

Harry reclined on his bed, taking deep slow breaths, with a lazy smile on his face. That was much better, that was how it was supposed to feel. He curled up around a pillow and thought about how much better it would be if it were warm. Lavender would be wide open by tomorrow, then he'd finally had a warm body beside him. The teen shivered. He was so cold lately, it was like he couldn't get warm on his own.

When the initial buzz faded, Harry packed away his kit and hid it under the mattress. His stash was running low, he needed to find a new dealer. "I'll go tonight," He told himself, "After I meet lavender I'll sneak into Hogsmade." The teen grinned, "Yeah, that's a perfect plan."

The teen then decided to attend his next class which unfortunately was divination. He checked his watch, he was running late. The class started ten minutes ago. But Harry ambled calmly down the halls, pretty much ignoring the other students. They made such a pretty blur as he walked by. So many colors and so many sounds, it made him feel like he was apart of something bigger—and that's always a nice delusion.

By the time he reached that stupid ladder that he had to climb to get to that stupid bat Trelawney's classroom it was twenty minutes after the start of class. "I hate ladders." Harry grumbled. Even high, he managed to get up the ladder with reasonable success, albeit he burst into the classroom a little awkwardly. He sort of hurled himself from the top of the ladder, onto the floor, and took several deep breaths, murmuring about stupid ladders and how only bats could climb them. Actually he wondered how someone as old and well…physically off balance as Trelawney could even climb the ladder in the first place.

"Sorry I'm late, I had to speak to Dumbledore." Harry said to his professor. Now technically he and Ron had failed their exams in divination, the only reason they were currently in the class was because of a nasty scheduling problem. They couldn't take runes with Hermione because they both decided to take the DADA theory class in addition to the required DADA. And unfortunately the only class they could be shoved into to fill their year requirements was divination.

"Mr. Potter!" She gasped, "A dark omen follows you!"

"One always does, professor. Am I going to die this year?" Half of the class snickered along with Harry.

"No, no, you've already died, Mr. Potter." She said with a bizarrely focused glint in her eyes. Then she paused, "Just kidding." The class chuckled uneasily.

Harry frowned, that was weird.

"Mr. Potter why are you wearing a sweater like that? It's very warm out." She asked, walking over to him in a swish of sequins and scarves.

"I'm cold," The teen shrugged, tugging nervously at his sleeves. He pulled the fabric down further over his wrists, hoping she would try and push them up. Then the track marks would show.

"Odd for such a young man to be so cold," Then Trelawney put a cold clammy hand to his forehead. That was too much, Harry jerked away from her and eyed her suspiciously. "You're very warm."

"Guess I'm sick then." Harry said angrily, he finally spotted Ron seated in a nearby corner, gesturing for his friend to come sit down. The dark haired teen ran a hand through his messy hair and noticed they had this class Slytherins. Shit. "Excuse me professor, I'll take my seat now." he turned and walked away from the professor as quickly as he could.

"You should stay inside tonight, or else hope a wondering Gemini comes to your rescue. The twins, one of whom will care for you and the other resent you for penetrating it's heart. And beware blondes. " Trelawney told him.

Harry sighed and glanced over his shoulder, "Did you just predict that by doing a back reading?"

"I just read your horoscope." She said smugly.

The teen frowned in disbelief, he hoped it was a horoscope, but that was disconcertingly specific. Inadvertently his eyes flickered to the slytherin side of the room and to a very icy blonde. Beware blondes? He should heed the warning, Malfoy wasn't someone a sane, self-appreciating person would want to be involved with. But then again, Harry wasn't too sane.

The blonde's eyes met his. Harry grinned, Malfoy jerked his eyes to the ground and frowned. The Gryffindor briefly considered blowing Malfoy a kiss, but decided against it. That would attract to much attention.

"Today class we will try a new method of divining, a very different method. We will spend the next three weeks learning about it. It is called Pyromancy, and there are many different ways of going about it. The one we will begin with is the most complicated and requires the most skill. Each table is equipped with a candle and a set of matches. You will light the candle and then watch the smoke. If all goes well, then you should see shapes either in the smoke or in the flame itself." Trelawney explained.

Ron sighed, "This sounds insane."

"That's the most basic principle of this whole damn class," Harry agreed. "I call second."

The redhead gave him a good nature glare. Then the redhead lit the candle and starred at the smoke. Harry pulled out his textbook and set it on his lap, ready to look up and report whatever symbols Ron made up.

"Uhm…. I see a circle."

Harry covered a laugh with a snort, "That means your caught in an endless loop in a personal situation."

"Huh, I think I might just be getting dizzy from the incense, but I kind of see pink?"

"Uh," Harry flipped to the color section, "That means love or the object of your affections."

"And I see curls, like hair or something."

"Well we can interpret that literally," Harry said with a wicked smile, "You're stuck in an endless loop because you're in love with Hermione and won't tell her."

"I am not! That—That's just silly!" Ron pouted. Then he thought a moment, "How'd you get Hermione?"

"She's got curly hair?"

"…ah….right."

Harry yawned, "See? That just proves all this stuff is bullshit, you see what you want to see. You saw that shit because your subconscious is trying to tell you something."

The redhead rolled his eyes, "When did you get all philosophical?"

"I got bored, I ran out of cars to chase."

Ron laughed, "Your turn."

The dark haired teen blew out Ron's flame and light his own. He propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his palms, starring into the flame with bored eyes. He watched the smoke, honestly he thought smoke was kind of cool. It danced and swirled into all those pretty shapes. And he thought it was a cool color too. Whenever he smoked weed with his new friends he'd always just lay back and enjoy the smoke.

Then his eyes started to loose focus, all the sudden he was sleepy—so sleepy. His eye lids got heavy and he blinked long and slow, slow enough that he could feel his lashes brush his cheeks. When his eyes opened again, the small candle flame was bigger all the sudden. Like it had grown or something, it took up all the space in front of his eyes—until all he could see was the flame.

It flickered and danced before him and then it started to change.

It turned into needles, sewing through skin, sharp and pointy and glittering in some kind of invisible light. And then the needle was a syringe, Harry could see heroin floating through the needle into a vein.

Then everything turned back into fire before it shifted again.

The red color leaked away from the fire and it turned silvery, it turned into the moon, hanging heavy above him. Everything else was dark except for the moon. That light, it was so bright that Harry thought it would swallow everything. Then the light faded because there was a face in his way.

And then a hand stretched forward, a strong, fine-boned hand with pale skin that sort of glowed in the moonlight. It was a gentle hand and it wasn't forcing him, it was just asking Harry to take it. It was asking Harry if it could help him. The hand stretched closer to him. The teen didn't feel his hand moving, but he knew it was. His hand was moving towards that glowing hand, his hand was begging to be saved.

Someone shouted and then there were higher pitched shrieks and gasps.

Why were they yelling?

Wait why was his hand so hot? Fuck it hurt!

Harry's eyes widened violently and he saw that his hand was inside a fairly large ball of fire at the end of the candle wick. Somehow the flame had grown into a head sized mass of fire. Harry yanked his hand back and the ball became a small, lick of flame, normal for a candle.

All the sudden Harry was on the floor, gasping for breath and starring at his hand. His skin was in patches of black charred skin that actually smoke and bright pink sections that stung like hell. It was the most painful thing Harry had ever felt. He couldn't breath, his brain was just screaming in pain, all he could think about was how much his fucking hand hurt.

"Oh my god, Harry, are you okay?" Ron gasped.

"Do I look okay?" Harry managed to gasp, the heroin was helping a little bit, not enough though. "What the hell?" He turned to Trelawney.

"You had a vision," The witch whispered in shock, "You had a true vision, what did you see! Tell me!"

Harry was about to kill her, "stuff in the fire, what did you do to it! How'd it—"

"I didn't touch the flame, you did that. I need someone to take Mr. Potter to the infirmary! Someone big and strong in case he collapses—well actually, he's thin enough anyone will do." She addressed the class, "Not you Mr. Weasly, I need to know exactly what happened. And no one who saw what happened!"

That eliminated the whole Gryffindor side of the room, they were all close enough to have seen first hand what happened.

"Can you do a pain spell?" Harry whimpered, meanwhile he was almost writhing on the floor in pain.

"I'm not authorized too," She told him.

The dark haired teen bit his lip so hard it was bleeding. The black bits of his hand were numb, but the pink parts, ohgodohgodohgod, he was going to die if someone didn't help him. "Pick someone fast," Harry managed to gasp.

"Uhhmm, Malfoy! You! Take him to the infirmary!" Malfoy opened his mouth to protest but Trelawney would have none of it. "He's very badly injured, go! Or else! I'll take points from Slytherin!"

Malfoy cursed under his breath and stood above Harry, "Can you walk?"

Harry was about to scream, this was insane! His brain was going to explode and Malfoy was asking him if he could walk. Trelawney was so fucking stupid! He was going to killkillkillkillkillkill her! The teen shot Malfoy a dirty look and, clutching his hand to his chest crawled towards the ladder. Harry got four steps down before he fell off.

"Shit!" Malfoy cursed. "If you die I am so fucked!"

The dark haired teen groaned. His head was spinning and he could see little stars. Luckily it wasn't to big of a ladder—but still. That fucking hurt. He wriggled to make sure nothing broke, all his bones seemed fine. But his head was pounding.

"Potter, are you alive?"

Harry whimpered something that resembled fuck.

"Can you walk?"

It would be so much easier if he just rolled over and died right here. Harry thrust his hand in the hair and tried to muster a sarcastic glare in the face of the excruciating pain he was in.

"That'll be a no," Malfoy said, mostly to himself because Harry was now writhing on the floor because it hurt so badly, dignity long abandoned. This was actually worse than the Cruciatus curse.

"If you Death Eaters found a spell that could burn people, it would be way better than Crucio," Harry mumbled.

The blonde tried to drag Harry to his feet and wrap the small teens arm over his shoulder, that way Harry could walk a little and support some of his own weight. But Harry's feet just dragged along the stones. Malfoy sighed, he was just dragging babbling dead weight. "I'm not a Death Eater." He insisted as he picked up Harry and looped an arm under the teen's knees.

Harry kept his wounded hand pressed tight to his chest, but wrapped his other arm around Draco's neck. He was in so much pain and everything was spinning. "So are you in the junior Death Eater club?"

"Can you shut up?"

The dark haired teen's head flopped back and he giggled, "Can you kiss me?"

"The fuck is wrong with you?" Malfoy snarled.

Harry kept giggling, "It's all spinny and black and…Malfoy is that you?"

The blonde glanced down at Harry. Shit, he looked totally loopy, he wasn't faking this. "It's me, just stop talking, we'll be at the infirmary soon."

"Rock a bye baby on the treetops," Harry sung in a dizzy voice, "when the wind blows the cradle will rock, and down will come baby…cradle and all!" The dark haired teen giggled and then opened his mouth to start another verse, anything to keep his mind off his hand.

"Stop singing that song, it's fucking creepy."

"Oh, okay, I got another one, ring around the roses a pocket full of posies—"

"That's even creepier, do you even know what that songs about?"

"Dying?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "It's about the black plague."

Harry's head lolled limply back and forth as Malfoy climbed the last staircase to the infirmary. "Um…Ron?"

"Shut up."

"Ron is that you?" Harry whispered again.

"Harry, be quiet."

Harry's head flopped forward to stare up at Draco with wild, insistent eyes—it was funny how green they were. Draco had never seen eyes so vibrant, his mother's certainly didn't measure up. "No, no, Ron it's you, right?" Malfoy could tell by the clouded nature of Harry's eyes that he wasn't lucid anymore, he might've been hallucinating. "Ron, I got a secret for ya."

Malfoy sighed, "What is it?"

The smaller teen grinned and pressed his lips to Malfoy's ear, the blonde shivered. Harry's breath was really, really warm. "I hate you…you left me to die. And you knew it!" Harry started to shout in a raw, exhausted voice, "You knew what they did! You knew, I know you knew. I was calling for you….why didn't you come? I came when you called!"

"You're hallucinating," Draco said uncomfortably, he hadn't been expecting this sort of raw confession.

"No, no, no, Ron! I have to tell you. I hate you."

And then Harry passed out. His head lolled against Draco's shoulder. The blonde could feel Harry's harsh, shallow breaths against his neck. "That was weird," he told himself, trying to dismiss the small teen's words as mere hallucinations. But there was an honesty to them, a desperate truth that colored them. What had Weasly done to him? For some reason, just wondering made Malfoy a little bit angry.

A/N: Well I was going to make this longer, but then it got too long already! So, everyone please forgive spelling and grammer errors, I just wrote it and posted it when it was done. Also, don't forget Harry's little vision in the fire, it might be important later. wink wink nudge nude. A nods as good as a wink to a blind bat

Anyone who identifies that last quote gets a turtle.


End file.
